


all you'll ever be

by Virus_Detected



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Cutting, Original Character(s), Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 15:52:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14524023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Virus_Detected/pseuds/Virus_Detected
Summary: Yonah is 17.He's not feeling too well at the moment.





	all you'll ever be

**Author's Note:**

> first post.  
> miniscene w yonah.

He hesitated.  
For a moment his heart skipped a beat, in the best and worst ways possible. Yonah held the paper thin blade between his thumb and forefinger, flat at first, then flipped it so the edges pressed against his fingertips and mirror-like side faces him. Such a fine razor was an efficient luxury, both a blessing a curse. He usually worked with duller things; scissors, pencil sharpeners, soda cans, kitchen knives, etc, things that required a bit more effort to get past the skin, which of course was all part of the experience.  
But this...  
He pressed down into the blade's fine edge, and without much force, blood began to dot around the skin where it penetrated.   
His heart fluttered for only a moment.  
His mouth scrunched up to the side, disappointment but desperate.  
Quick results, little feeling.  
That was the problem with these. They were so sharp that there was only a vague instance of pain, as it cut and severed so quickly.  
Yonah sighed, situating himself on the stained, grimy edge of what used to be a white bath tub. He glanced inside and saw a murky puddle of odd black gunk pooling at the end where the drain should be, along with old dry vomit, two red solo cups, cigarette buds, and a used tampon. With no sign of being fazed on his face, he diverted his attention back to the small blade between his fingers as he leaned down, his head dropping down between his shoulders and his thick dirty blond hair flowing down over his face, resting his elbows on his knees. All sorts of stains and black dirt decorated the grimy floor tiles his feet rested on. The toilet was missing both its lid and seat, and was empty of water. There was a spot on the wall under the cracked mirror and ancient lightbulb on the wall where there no doubt used to be a sink, with exposed pipes jutting out from the large T shape that lacked wallpaper.  
"When you told me that you missed me..."  
From beyond the door that only kept closed because of a rusted latch, muffled music from the party downstairs seeped through, mixed with laughter and screams, thuds on the walls and floors, making the house creak. Somewhere in a nearby room, the annoyingly loud creaking of a bed and lack of expected moans signaled that someone was either overcompensating or grotesquely selfish.  
"...well i couldnt close my eyes... cuz i realized what it felt like to die..."  
He turned the razor over in his fingers, wondering if it was even worth trying, if this little merciful piece of metal could satisfy his needs right now, as strong as they were.  
Taking it flat between his right thumb and forefinger, he held the razor's edge to an unscarred spot on his forearm, pressing it in and dragging it slowly across horizontally.  
"all you'll ever be... is a nightmare and a wet dream"  
He watched the edge disappear deeper and deeper as it moved, slicing his pale skin, leaving a jagged bright red wake, quick to pool up inside and spill. It was mesmerizing every time. It never got old.  
It was beautiful.  
The sudden sting, though short lived, triggered that little flutter in his heart. He sucked in air softly through parted lips, and exhaled slowly, eyes growing drowsily lidded as he lifted the blade from his skin.   
"So I drove home at a hundred miles an hour..."  
The muffled music registered back in his ears. He hadnt even noticed that everything was being blocked out. He sat up, stretching his shoulders, feeling goosebumps form as the movements caused the skin around the new wound to stretch and sting. He felt the warmth of the blood seep down his forearm to the palm of his hand and drip to the floor in fat crimson drops from his fingers.  
He wanted more, so much so that there was nearly a shiver of in his spine. Anxiety and almost panic began to wash over him again. His green eyes searched the gash on his wrist as if the answer lay somewhere in the severed layers of skin and flesh.  
With his heart racing in excitement, panic, and somehow a sense of duty, he brought the blade back up to a new spot and repeated the process, this time slashing himself in a quick movement. He clenched his teeth and kept his eyes open, as if it was nothing.   
The hand holding the bloody razor went limp, nearly dropping it as he felt the pain catch up with him all at once. He could almost feel the endorphins washing over him in waves with every shallow beat of his heart. A sort of warmth. Calmness.

Comfort.

 

Yonah ran his fingers through his hair, combing it back and tucking it behind his ear, feeling the clear, cold weight of reality hit him again. His fingers trembled, tangled in the dirty blond locks with white speckled here and there. His heart began to race again, and the beats no longer brought that good feeling.  
The grip on the razor tightened, his fingers  going white.  
He gave a quick slash as his bicep, cutting deeper than intended but it didnt matter.  
He wouldn't let reality catch up with him. He refused to stay awake.  
He slashed himself again, and again, and again, continually, quickly, over and over. Jaw clenched, he shut his eyes tight, his breath trembling and hitching as his hand seemes to hack away at himself on its own, until...

With a soft clink, the blade hit the ground, stanied fully crimson, dropping from his trembling hand. Yonah looked at his hand with wide eyes, breathing heavily and swallowing as he dropped to his knees on the floor. His left arm was wet and gleaming with warm blood seeping onto the floor as he planted both hands firmly on the disgusting floor. He felt light, warm, at peace.  
High.  
His turned his head up to face the cieling.  
It was cracked and stained from leaks and water damage over the years.  
Kneeling in dirt, blood, dried piss, and anything else obscure and disgusting that stained the bathroom floor, Yonah found himself in a much too familiar place.   
This is what he was. This is all he would ever be.


End file.
